Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Finding A Sanctuary

“Our listening creates a sanctuary for the homeless parts within another person” — Rachel Naomi Remen

SOURCE

“So as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all of the horrors of the half-lived life” — Herman Melville, Moby Dick

                                        

Midweek Motif ~ Finding A  Sanctuary

In the din and bustle of daily life all need a little sanctuary to rest, heal and revive; a space to de-clutter stressful thoughts; a moment to usher in a glimmer of hope; a Tahiti, to take care of the soul, and find one self in safety, comfort and peace.   

Write about finding such a sanctuary.

You might also look at a wildlife sanctuary or a sanctuary for political refugee or a sanctuary for the homeless. Possibilities are many.

Walk us to this isle of grace today:

Sanctuary

by Dorothy Parker

My land is bare of chattering folk;

The clouds are low along the ridges,

And sweet’s the air with curly smoke

From all my burning bridges

Sanctuary

by Elinor Morton Wylie

This is the bricklayer; hear the thud
Of his heavy load dumped down on stone.
His lustrous bricks are brighter than blood,
His smoking mortar whiter than bone.

Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten brick
Straight by the plumb-line's shivering length;
Make my marvellous wall so thick
Dead nor living may shake its strength.

Full as a crystal cup with drink
Is my cell with dreams, and quiet, and cool. . .
Stop, old man! You must leave a chink;
How can I breathe? You can't, you fool!

Sanctuary

by Jean Valentine

People pray to each other. The way I say 'you' to someone else,
respectfully, intimately, desperately. The way someone says
'you' to me, hopefully, expectantly, intensely ...
—Huub Oosterhuis


You who I don't know I don't know how to talk to you

—What is it like for you there?

Here ... well, wanting solitude; and talk; friendship—
The uses of solitude. To imagine; to hear.
Learning braille. To imagine other solitudes.
But they will not be mine;
to wait, in the quiet; not to scatter the voices—

What are you afraid of?

What will happen. All this leaving. And meetings, yes. But death.
What happens when you die?

"... not scatter the voices,"

Drown out. Not make a house, out of my own words. To be quiet in
another throat; other eyes; listen for what it is like there. What
word. What silence. Allowing. Uncertain: to drift, in the
restlessness ... Repose. To run like water—

What is it like there, right now?

Listen: the crowding of the street; the room. Everyone hunches in
against the crowding; holding their breath: against dread.

What do you dread?

What happens when you die?

What do you dread, in this room, now?

Not listening. Now. Not watching. Safe inside my own skin.
To die, not having listened. Not having asked ... To have scattered
life.

Yes I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, to
follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes. 

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

                (Next week Susan’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Human Trafficking)

                               

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Wind Power

Source

"Three characteristics of wind energy – variability, uncertainty and 
asynchronism – can cause problems for maintaining 
a reliable and secure power system."

— Windtech International, April/May 2014

National WInd Watch Quotes

"[In Adelie Land, Antarctica] a howling river of wind, 50 miles wide, blows off the plateau, month in and month out, at an average velocity of 50 m.p.h. 
As a source of power this compares favorably with 6,000 tons of water falling every second over Niagara Falls. I will not further anticipate some H. G. Wells of the future who will ring the antarctic with power-producing windmills; but the winds of the Antarctic have to be felt to be believed, and nothing is quite impossible to physicists and engineers. "

— Frank Debenham

 'Science: One Against Darwin', Time (23 Sep 1935).

Science Quotations on Wind Power

Source

Midweek Motif ~ Wind Power

According to Wikipedia, June 15th is Global Wind Day, a worldwide event: 

It is organised by EWEA (European Wind Energy Association) and GWEC (Global Wind Energy Council). It is a day when wind energy is celebrated, information is exchanged and adults and children find out about wind energy, its power and the possibilities it holds to change the world.

But wind energy is not celebrated by everyone.  It's development may be stalled like the electric car, because it would not profit people in power.   But is wind power bad? Solar power takes up as much space, but doesn't include noise pollution.  Take a look at the video below as one point of view. 

(Read more about Wind Power HERE.)

Your Challenge: In a new poem, 

use powerful images 

to portray Wind Power. 

Feel free to use a slogan from HERE. Or to use landscapes and sounds from the video, which is HERE. Be sure to link the original.

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The Windmill            

BY LONGFELLOW                  

Behold! a giant am I!
  Aloft here in my tower,
  With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
  And grind them into flour.

I look down over the farms;
  In the fields of grain I see
  The harvest that is to be,
And I fling to the air my arms,
  For I know it is all for me.

I hear the sound of flails
  Far off, from the threshing-floors
  In barns, with their open doors,
And the wind, the wind in my sails,
  Louder and louder roars.

I stand here in my place,
  With my foot on the rock below,
  And whichever way it may blow,
I meet it face to face,
  As a brave man meets his foe.

And while we wrestle and strive,
  My master, the miller, stands
  And feeds me with his hands;
For he knows who makes him thrive,
  Who makes him lord of lands.

On Sundays I take my rest;
  Church-going bells begin
  Their low, melodious din;
I cross my arms on my breast,
  And all is peace within.

#

 A Summer Wind

Related Poem Content Details

BY MICHAEL FIELD

O wind, thou hast thy kingdom in the trees, 

        And all thy royalties 

        Sweep through the land to-day. 

              It is mid June, 

And thou, with all thy instruments in tune,

              Thine orchestra

Of heaving fields and heavy swinging fir, 

              Strikest a lay 

              That doth rehearse 

Her ancient freedom to the universe. 

        All other sound in awe 

              Repeats its law: 

        The bird is mute; the sea 

        Sucks up its waves; from rain 

        The burthened clouds refrain, 

To listen to thee in thy leafery, 

              Thou unconfined, 

Lavish, large, soothing, refluent summer wind. 

#

“Were I the wind, 

I'd blow no more on such 

a wicked, miserable world.” 

― Herman Melville, 

Moby-Dick; or, The Whale

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Please share your new poem with Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community.

(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be ~ Resilience )

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Martyrdom / Witness

You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become 

more powerful than you could possibly imagine. 

~Obi-Wan Kenobi in A New Hope by George Lucas

"Glory" by Common, John Legend and Che "Rhymefest" Smith.

From the 2014 film Selma. 

Midweek Motif ~ 

Martyrdom / Witness

Here's a very surprising fact! It surprised me, anyway, and led to this prompt.  According to Wikipedia: 

In its original meaning, the word martyr, meaning witness, was used in the secular sphere as well as in the New Testament of the Bible.[1] The process of bearing witness was not intended to lead to the death of the witness . . . .

Your Challenge:  Perhaps you have witnessed or experienced witness that needs a poem? Write a new poem for this prompt, letting the tone of the poem reveal your positive or negative feelings about martyrdom and/or witness. 

From the Gallery of 20th Century Martyrs at Westminster Abbey—l. to r.Mother Elizabeth of Russia, Rev. Martin Luther King, Archbishop Oscar Romero and Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The Martyr

BY HERMAN MELVILLE

Indicative of the passion of the people
on the 15th of April, 1865

Good Friday was the day

    Of the prodigy and crime,

When they killed him in his pity,

    When they killed him in his prime

Of clemency and calm—

         When with yearning he was filled

         To redeem the evil-willed,

And, though conqueror, be kind;

    But they killed him in his kindness,

    In their madness and their blindness,

And they killed him from behind.

              There is sobbing of the strong,

                   And a pall upon the land;

              But the People in their weeping

                                    Bare the iron hand:

              Beware the People weeping

                   When they bare the iron hand.

. . . . (Read the rest HERE at The Poetry Foundation.)

ICC Kenya Trials: Witness

BY SHAILJA PATEL

was it so I could

never say

across a courtroom

that man, the one

standing there

was it so you could

walk among us again

after

as if you had shed

the body that did

those things

was it because you could

not bear

my pupils so huge

they would have swallowed you

my whites like flayed kneecaps

when you pressed down

to singe them back

into my skull they were softer

than you expected

you had thought them

diamond hard

weapons turned on you

was it so you could

imagine a time

when you would be human

again among humans

that you had to leave

some of us

alive?

Source: Poetry (March 2014).

Used by Permission

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below 

and visit others in the spirit of the community.

(Next week, Sumana's Midweek Motif will be A Flower Was Offered to Me. )

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